Chapter 13

Five more concerts and the tour would be over. What would come after that would be interesting. I was going to have to return to the States and get all the paperwork ready for the marriage contract. Part of it we could work out ahead of time: time limit (none), obligations to future children, allocation and definition of common property and other standard stuff like that. I sent it to a law firm specializing in civil union contract law. I'm kind of an old-fashioned guy; I know the term marriage has no legal meaning in the United States and the document we sign will say "civil union" or "domestic partnership" but to me it will still be a marriage. I still had to apply for visas for my lovely brides but didn't think that be a problem; they're citizens of a neutral country. It's not like they're Iranian, Venezuelan or even Chinese, for God's sake. Unfortunately I have to be physically in the States to do it so I'd have to go back for at least a few days.

There was a small hiccup with Niamh's divorce. Good old Tom initially decided to contest it saying he had been supporting her for a number of years before the band started making money and he wanted his cut over and above the equal shares. There's an old joke that goes something like this: What do you call the dumbest lawyer in the courtroom? Answer: "Your Honor!"

Unfortunately for Mr. Callahan His Honor happened to be Her honor and she wasn't dumb. As she immediately demonstrated by demanding both of their financial records back to two years before they were married. As it turned out husband-of-the-year Tom hadn't earned a fucking centime for what appeared to be most of his life. Most of their support in their early years came from her family with a few crumbs thrown in by his. Of course all court records are public records and when it came out not only was he a wife-beater but a deadbeat wife-beater ... Well, he dropped contesting the split and settled for half her net worth at the time of her filing. Leanne was pissed at the unfairness; Niamh was unconcerned and I couldn't give a shit either way. As far as I was concerned it was money well spent to get rid of a parasite; kind of like buying medicine to get rid of a tapeworm. Turns out he'd spent most of their money as she earned it so there wasn't all that much to divide anyway.

Not that it made a whole lot of difference for a civil union contracted and executed in the United States anyway. As a crime, bigamy was eliminated from US laws when we converted over to the contract system from the license system that had been part of common law for hundreds of years (thousands if you count European and other ethnic ancestral origins.) Unless a CU contract had an exclusivity clause (unusual under license systems) any other "marriage" was immaterial to the contract. If it did have an exclusivity clause it was treated as a contract violation, a civil offense.

In other words the US couldn't give a shit if Niamh was "married" to one or twenty other men (or women; let's be fair here) in Ireland or anywhere else. However it mattered to Niamh and that counted more to me than anything my own government had to say.

Everything was going along rather smoothly (which of course should have given me a clue that the little old lady in the Fairy Godmother department was about to take a long vacation and the temp agency was going to send the Fuck-up Fairy to take her place.) Even the confusion the twins had been creating in my mind was a little bit more on an even keel.

I'm not sure what happened; someone talked to someone or they got bored or whatever, but ever since that night at the club both Eimile and Shauna severely pulled back on their sexual aggression. That doesn't mean they avoided or snubbed us by any means, not at all. They were with the three of us pretty much all the time that we weren't actually in bed but there wasn't the dry humping, groping, half-naked full body massages that were close to driving me insane. There was a lot of hand-holding, cuddling, kissing and lap-sitting, maybe more than even before, but when one of them got a little overexcited (not me, I'm a rock) the other would pull her off and calm her down. It was kind of like dating the old fashioned way with a chaperone except here the chaperone wanted in on the action too. I tried not to think about what was going to happen after Leanne, Niamh and I got married. I'd become used to their presence; it would feel just plain wrong not having them there.

In the spirit of openness I tried discussing all of this with my intendeds but was met with equivocation, evasion, dismissal and distraction. Mostly distraction; it's really hard to ask a question when someone is sticking her tit in your mouth and even harder to hear the answer when her thighs are covering your ears. It doesn't do much for the unimpeded flow of communication between spouses but I can attest that as a method of derailing or deferring undesired questions it is highly effective. I can also confirm that it is difficult to complain about being blatantly manipulated in such a manner after you've been fucked into a coma. You know you should complain about something but unfortunately you just don't care anymore.

So anyway before the shit hit the blower everything was sailing along pretty smoothly. Oh sure there were a couple of bumps in the road but even they seemed to work out for the best. Take the time the backup band didn't show...

It was in Armagho, the next concert after Lisburn. I know Camberge had been trying to find larger places for the group to play after the kidnapping attempt but that wasn't always possible. Sometimes there were no other facilities and at others there just wasn't the population to support a larger venue. Armagho was one for either or maybe both reasons. The hotel was "quaint," i.e., a dump, and the hall small with seating for only about twenty-five hundred but it didn't faze the girls. It had a "cozy" feel they said.

The only one who grumbled at all was Rachael but then as far as she was concerned a billion people spread out at her feet listening to her sing wasn't enough. She thrived on attention and the more the better. Afterwards even she admitted it wasn't so bad; the audience feedback from even a small crowd that close was exhilarating.

Anyway the first we heard about it was when Camberge showed up with Valeria and Connor who was still supposed to be their manager at his heels at the end of the afternoon rehearsal telling us there had been an accident and the backup band scheduled for the evening couldn't make it. He was in a complete dither ranting and raving with Valeria trying to calm him down and Connor echoing his moans like a good little sycophant should. I just sat back and watched the show since I knew this little fuckup wouldn't affect me one way or the other.

Well, yes and no...

"God damn it, Val," he screamed. "The bloody audience is expecting two bloody bands and when we bloody well don't have two bloody bands they're going to want their bloody fucking money back!"

Valeria tried to console him with Connor whining the chorus behind them in this little tragedy, " ... two bloody bands, two bloody bands..." Personally I thought she was right. The ticket buyers had paid to see Irish Mist and not some post high school cover band. Just ask the girls to add a couple of songs to their list for the night and let it go at that. If one or two of them asked for their money back who gives a shit.

Valeria talked to the girls while Camberge and his ass-kissing monkey beat their breasts and wailed dirges in the background. I stayed out of it and intended to continue staying out of it unless my girls asked me to intervene. Naturally if they did, even if there was absolutely nothing I could do about it, I'd have to get involved and do something; it comes with the territory. Luckily that didn't happen; they worked it out all by themselves. The only time I got involved was when I got my op-orders from my boss, Leanne.

"Martin," she said to me after their meeting broke up. "We'll be changing the schedule around a wee bit tonight. All of us excepting Rachael will be doing an extra set in place of the backup. We'll need to be changing the times we go onstage and add a wee bit before the main show fer some rest and costume change."

"As my queen dictates her humble servant will endeavor to execute," I bowed with a flourish.

"Oh you," she giggled and hit my chest softly. Afterwards she climbed my frame and with her legs wrapped around my waist we spent a good few minutes tickling each others tonsils with our tongues.

"Ah thought ya said ya were going to give 'im his marching orders," Shauna said from behind Leanne. "If ah'd known that's what ya was talking about ah'd of volunteered fer it meself."

"Ya handle yer serfs yer way and ah'll handle mine my way," Leanne called back over her shoulder with a smirk. "Ah find a little honey works better than the lash."

"Oh, and have ya two been playing with the lash behind our backs now?" Shauna grinned. "And just who would be doing the lashing and who'd be in the receiving end might ah ask?"

"Maybe we trade off," Leanne wiggled her bottom which I promptly spanked softly. "And then again maybe not," she giggled releasing her legs before sliding down to stand in front of me. "Any problem, Martin? Ah know we can't tell ya exact times..."

"You just knock them dead out there, baby, and we'll adapt to whatever you need," I said bending down to give her a kiss before she scampered off.

"Do ah get one of those?" Shauna asked wiggling up against me. Not knowing exactly which part she was asking for I gave her a kiss and spanked her lightly before she also skipped off giggling. I assume this is standard procedure for all security chiefs; if it isn't, eat your hearts out suckers!

The stage manager and the roadies were more than happy to accommodate Leanne et al. since it involved only moving their instruments a little closer together on the stage and not moving a whole other band on and off. When the time came the girls nonchalantly took the stage and the crowd hushed as very soft music began to wash out over then.

"Thank ya fer coming here tonight, everybody," Leanne began from behind her keyboard. "Ah know ya came wanting to hear Expectation play," she had to pause as the laughter drowned her out for a few seconds. "But ah have some bad news. There was an accident on the way over here tonight and they won't be able to make it.

"However ya paid fer two bands and me cousins and me thought ya should have two," she continued as the whispering in the crowd grew louder. "Now ya might know me cousins and me play with another wee band; have ya heard of it? Irish Mist?" The screaming and laughter got very loud. "Oh ya have? Oh, very good, well, Rachael will be coming out soon enough," that got another loud cheer. "So keep yer pants on there, fella," she pointed to a guy in the front row. "At least fer now," she winked setting off an even louder cheer.

"But till then we have something a little different for ya." As she said that I heard the opening notes of the instrumental piece Marco Polo by Loreena McKennitt starting out softly as her fingers played almost absently over the keyboard. "The songs yer going to hear are mostly old and we doubt you've heard many of them. But that's only right since we got them from an old feller to begin with." She looked right at me and winked and I could only sigh and shake my head as all four of them glanced my way and laughed.

"Oh," she started as if it was an afterthought, "if yer wondering what we be calling ourselves you'll be happy to know we're... The Warlord's Harem." With that she launched into the body of the song partially drowning out the screams and catcalls coming from the audience.

I suppose you won't understand the audience's reaction when she gave the name of their "new" band unless you'd been following the gossip-sites during that time. It was a not so subtle reference to the scandal sites christening the four of them as The Major's Harem right after the vids from that stupid club incident splashed across the net. (I suppose I never will be able to convince anyone that I'm really just a retired captain and not a major. I wish I got the pay, screw the title.) It was reported "on impeccable authority" that I was bedding all four and at least three if not all four were pregnant with my children. Pretty quick work for one broken-down old soldier isn't it?

Well, I was impressed. On second thought maybe it's best if we not follow that path where it leads. After all they were too damn close to the truth in fact if not in numbers. Besides, I wasn't overly convinced at the time that even if it might be physically possible to make love to all those girls in one night the survivability of such an encounter was highly doubtful. The fact that I was still alive or not recuperating in a hospital somewhere should have demonstrated how silly those speculations were.

As the energetic end of Marco Polo came to a crashing halt they immediately launched into The Mummers' Dance and for the first time I heard Eimile sing. It was beautiful. Soft, sweet and pitch perfect, it made me want to cry.

"When in the springtime of the year
When the trees are crowned with leaves
When the ash and oak, and the birch and yew
Are dressed in ribbons fair..."

"What is this foostering shite?" Rachael snorted. I hadn't even noticed she'd walked up next to me.

"Just some old songs they found in my collection," I answered not wanting to be drawn into and argument with her. "Probably not your cup of tea."

"Ha! That's fer certain," she huffed. "Ah suppose ya thinks she's got a better voice than ah do, now don't ya?"

"It is beautiful," I smiled. "But I'd say different not better; but don't you dare tell her that" I narrowed my eyes and looked down at my little blonde bane. "Honestly, for this song I think she nailed it perfectly." Rachael huffed but I continued. "But for the songs you do ... I'm not sure she'd do quite as well."

"Oh?" she looked at me in surprise. "And you'll be a music critic now? Maybe I'll tell her just to see what kind of trouble you'll be getting into."

"Why doesn't that surprise me?" I actually smiled at her. "And no, I'm no music critic or expert or anything like that but I do know what I like. Your voices are different and suited for different songs." I paused and listened to the different song she was then. "This one, for instance: It's wonderful, except when she gets to the chorus..."

" ... She should be screaming that out," Rachael nodded as she swayed to the music. "It needs to be wailed..." and as the chorus came around again she began to sing along.

"Calling ... Yearning ... Pulling ... Home to you..." Loudly. It was amazing to me she could get such volume and power and still be note perfect when she did it. As much as I hated to admit it, she is one hell of a singer.

"It always amazes me you can get that much volume being the little troll you are," I told her.

"Ah think that was almost a compliment," she grinned smacking me on the arm, hard.

"Not a chance," I assured her rubbing my bruised appendage.

"Well, as ya say, not exactly my cup of tea. But not half bad fer just fussing around," she grudgingly admitted.

"I certainly like it," I said.

"Of course ya do," she snorted. "They're yer birds. You'd say ya loved it if they were banging on pots and spitting on the floor. Well, ah best be getting back to the dressing room. At least one of us needs to be ready fer the real show." With that she hit me again in exactly the same spot as before. She did that on purpose I'm absolutely sure. With that mission accomplished she skipped away, hooked her arm into Faolain's who was standing a few discreet paces behind us and headed for the dressing area.

I would have loved to just stand there to listen and watch them but I had a job I actually needed to do so I took a tour of the backstage area. I could hear them from wherever I was so it wasn't like I was missing anything. I ran across Camberge, all smiles now, along with Valeria, the ass-kisser — I mean Connor and another man I didn't recognize. Camberge just nodded but didn't call me over so I didn't bother him. The new man certainly didn't look like one of Connor's hoodlum friends and was quietly whispering to Camberge so while I was curious, I didn't think it was something I needed to get involved in.

The girls finished their set with an absolutely rocking version of Wizards in Winter which is a pretty energetic song to begin with. The hall was almost silent when they put their instruments down or stood up from behind them until suddenly it exploded into thundering applause. Leanne said thank you to the audience and told them they'd be back shortly and all four of them ran off the stage with grins wide enough I was sure their faces had to hurt. Leanne didn't even slow down as launched herself at me and I rocked back a step when she wrapped her legs around my waist and arms around my neck. A second or two later I was surrounded by three other chattering females talking and giggling so fast I couldn't understand a word they were saying. It was a good thing I couldn't possibly be expected to answer since Lea had her tongue so far down my throat I could barely breathe around it, let alone talk.

"Lord! That was fun!" Leanne squealed when she finally broke free and pulled her head back. "It was like we was fussing around fer fun back when we were wee ones again!"

"Hey there, ya greedy little thing," Niamh continued grinning as she pushed Leanne away from me. Lea unwrapped her legs and dropped them to the floor as Niamh pressed in between us and before I knew it another pair of lips was pressed against mine. Niamh's kiss was far less aggressive but no less passionate.

"Hey there yerself," somebody complained as Niamh "Oofed!" into my mouth when a finger poked her in the side. "Yer a fine one to be calling greedy with ya hogging the snogging as ya are." Niamh broke our kiss and turned her head towards her accuser. Eimile stood there with her hands on her hips tapping her foot looking up expectantly.

"Well, if ya insist," Niamh smirked and after another quick peck backed up only to be replaced by a squirming, seemingly very needy Eimile and after her, Shauna, Did I ever mention how lucky I am? Eat your hearts out, suckers!